


Husband and Wife

by usabuns



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: A little angst/comfort, Cooking with Gohan, Early Married Life, F/M, Fluff, Pre Battle of Gods
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-01
Updated: 2016-02-01
Packaged: 2018-05-17 13:13:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5870971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/usabuns/pseuds/usabuns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They're two sides of the same coin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Husband and Wife

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo uhh I wrote this little thing just now instead of doing my homework, and I guess it's a little experiment piece. I went for more descriptive aspects in this rather than dialogue-heavy stuff or lots of actions. 
> 
> I've been having major Hanvi/Godel feels lately (I blame Dragon Ball Super), so this was enjoyable to write! I hope you guys like it! :D

She is _soft_ , _delicate_ , _curved_ ; and he is _rough_ , _calloused_ , _sharp_. _Physically_ , the differences are many, but _emotionally_ , they're on the exact same page. 

**+++**

"I think we should cuddle on the couch." The wife draped her arms over her husband's shoulders, pressing her front to his back. "It's a rarity for me to even _see_ you this early during the week... We might as well make the _best_ of it..." Her words died in a murmured whisper, fading until they were replaced by the sounds of a wooden spoon clanging against the pot and steam rising from boiling water. 

"I _am_ making the best of it," the husband insisted, wiping a drop of sweat from his brow and sweeping the lone fibers of hair that hung over his forehead aside. "I'm cooking this especially for _you _, Videl. I can't go cuddle because I need to watch the food." He gave the contents of the pot another stir, as if to emphasize his point.__

Sometimes, whenever he was in his 'hopeless romantic' mode, she'd get peeved off, and, unfortunately for him, this was one of those times. A low sneer escaped from the young woman's mouth, not going unnoticed by the young man. The latter gave a deep sigh, squeezing his spouse's gentle fingers and warming them up with his own palms. 

His mind struggled to formulate words that could adequately articulate what he wanted to say. "I know this isn't exactly your idea of ' _fun_ ,' but I want to do something nice for you. You shouldn't have to do everything around here just because I'm at work all day..." His words, like hers, dwindled into the silence shared between them. The statement had not come out completely accurate, but even still, Gohan kept his gaze firm and focused as he placed his attention on the task at hand, even if he yearned to hold his wife just as badly as she yearned to feel his touch. 

Preparing soup was no simple matter; you had to get the flavors and spices and ingredients just right, or else the whole dish would be completely soiled. He, as a Saiyan, would eat _anything_ put before him, but he had learned from his mother that humans possessed a more _refined_ palette. Making this soup perfectly would surely win over Videl's heart and prompt her to forget all the wasted time spent cooking the meal. 

He had kept tracing the back of one of her hands while he cooked, so when Videl released, he was a tad bit surprised. She moved her arms down to his waist, fingering his abdominal muscles, and pulled closer to him while nuzzling the curve of his back. Her voice was quiet and hoarse as she spoke up, warmth flooding into her face, "You work hard for me, Gohan. Sometimes, I actually think you _overwork_ yourself... But, the point is that I'm grateful for everything you do. That's why I always prepare dinner: because I like to _thank_ you for all of your work. I like to _treat_ you once and a while..." 

The words left him in a stunned myriad of stuttering and silence that nearly made him drop (or crush) the utensil grasped in his hand. "V-Videl..." Just as quickly as she had spoken, a blush spread itself on Gohan's cheeks like a warm blanket. "T-Thank you. I'm glad you appreciate me so much..." It was then that he lowered the stove temperature, placed the spoon on the counter beside him, and turned around on one heel, breaking their embrace. "W-Well, still, that doesn't mean _I_ shouldn't give _you_ a well-deserved break from time to time." He tugged on his collar (a habit she had picked up on; he did that whenever he was nervous), placing his hands supportively on each of her shoulders. 

The action, however slight and minuscule, filled Videl with glee; _he loved her, he truly loved her with all his heart_. "Gohan..." This was the man she had chosen to marry, and she couldn't have made a better decision in all of her life. "I love you, Gohan. I love you." She had spoken a simple truth in those words, a truth that held too much meaning to even begin to describe. 

"I love you too. More than anyone else in the world. I'll love you forever, until every last star in the galaxy dies. I promise, Videl." These words, he said with certainty; an objective truth of the universe that no one would dare dispute. 

She giggled like a schoolgirl, he laughed a laugh that rivaled those of his father. He touched their noses together in a flurry of flesh, she ruffled his hair until it was more disheveled than usual. She smiled broadly, he grinned so wide he though his lips would burst. He whirled her off her feet, she let him. She tickled his arms, he stroked her fine cheeks. He twirled her around in the air, she clung onto his verdant sweater-vest as tightly as she could. 

And _the kiss_ : it was wonderful. As he leaned into her personal space, pushing her up against the counter and leaning down so they were the same height, Gohan swooped in and pressed his cool, plump lips against Videl's thin ones. The woman used one hand to balance herself on the counter top, and the man slung an arm around her hips to reel her in. Her breasts compressed against his chest, Gohan's hand reached up to caress her face as she somehow managed to slide up and sit upon the counter. 

_His_ breath smelled of the soup's garlic and chicken stock, and also of the mints he had been chewing on earlier; she decided that this would be her new favorite scent. _Her_ breath was like fire; it was passionate and intense and bore the gentle fragrances of pomegranate and dark chocolate. 

But, at the end of it all, the husband still worshipped his wife, and the wife still worshipped her husband. The husband still felt the soft touch of his wife, and the wife still felt the rough contact of her husband. 

And all was well.


End file.
